Chapter Text
prologue
CXII
Gold. Endless greenery. Ornate marble columns. Linen. Sweetmeats. The blazing sun.
Jeongguk didn’t know why he was suddenly tired of it now. Perhaps it was the dawning realization that if not for the riches and his business, there was nothing to brighten up his days, to bring meaning to his life. Sighing, he waved off the female servant fanning him, and once alone, he pressed his middle finger in between his furrowed brows, rubbing there while thinking what a bore the past few weeks had been.
“Pallas!” He bellowed, his voice traveling from his chambers and reaching across the vast open courtyard.
Ever since his father’s death, life had been swimmingly amiable for the most part. He had inherited the old man’s riches without any trouble considering he was an only son and managed the business with ease he didn’t think he had. He’d always been worried about how the people of Rome would see him once his father was gone, what with him being the son of a prostitute hailing from the Orient, but it seemed they had more respect for him and his mother than they were letting on. Born in their extravagant domus in the capital and later on raised in a much more lavish villa in the sprawling hills of Ardea , Jeongguk was destined to be the heir to the biggest merchant of Rome, the founder of the first merchant guild.
And here he was, four years into running the trade and feeling the dullest in all his life.
"Yes, my lord?" Pallas, a man of forty, walked into his chambers.
“Arrange a ride for me to the capital,” Jeongguk said, and within an hour, they left.
That was how he found himself in the carpentum for a few hours, going up and down hills, past terrains and greenery, watching as the morning sun rose higher at noon. When he had boarded the wooden carriage, he didn’t specifically have a place in mind. He’d just wanted to get away for a bit from the villa and the silence, perhaps enjoy a few hours in the capital. Although he was one of the richest civilians in Rome, he didn’t exactly have the luxury of royals—the one that most people don’t have, and that was time. He was busy day and night, and couldn’t live far from the capital even if he wanted to. Although he had a home in Rome, he’d chosen to remain in the family villa. It was a hectare wide land with a spacious courtyard in the middle. It was the closest he could be to his dreams of a quiet living, and he often dearly thanked his father that a cove was nearby. There, he could relax every now and then to watch the sea.
This time, however, his residence's proximity to the capital proved to be to his advantage as he could already see the villages of the poor near the horizon. The tiny houses sprawled in messy lines, dirty and looking stripped off any life, not because they were dull and gray but because there were quite literally no people on the streets, save for a few children frolicking about.
“Lazar, did we take a different route? I don't think this is the same path as...” He trailed off while gesturing to his other servant, the one who always accompanied him together with Pallas. Like the other, he was in his forties.
“Indeed this is a different route.” Jeongguk raised an eyebrow. “We'd heard of the games today and thought it might be something to rid you of your boredom, my lord. There's a great gladiator in the arena nearby.”
Surely enough, as the carpentum drove onward, Jeongguk began to hear the loud yelling of men and the screaming of women. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity. Those were surely cheers for the famous bloodbath. Pallas eyed the way he looked around for an arena, and only tipped his head in a bow when Jeongguk signaled in its direction.
“Would you like to—” Lazar began but Jeongguk interrupted by chuckling, already entertained.
“Only for this afternoon.”
Jeongguk had never been a spectator at gladiatorial games, although he knew from stories what they were like and heard from his servants that were fanatics of the games. Burly men were enslaved by the rich and trained to fight for them, win them money. Or at least, that’s what he had envisioned gladiators to be, he thought to himself as the carpentum stopped at a small arena, immediately stealing the attention of spectators outside as he stepped out of the carriage.
His name didn’t have to be said for him to be granted access. He took easy strides as he rounded corner after corner, ushered inside by an assistant of one lanista, owner of the gladiators. People bowed to him in respect, some gossiped when he passed, but the reactions all held one undertone and principal thought.
He's rich, what is he doing here?
Normally, someone of his status wouldn't settle for gladiatorial games in a rundown arena outside of the capital. The lords and ladies he knew frequented the Colosseum and no other arena.
When Jeongguk reached the dais overlooking the arena, the lanista whipped around, holding the exact same expression everyone else did.
“My lord!” The old man bowed, immediately showing Jeongguk to his seat. But of course, the young lord didn’t sit and instead perched his hands on the balustrade.
“Are the games yet to start?”
“Yes, we’ve had a little trouble with one of the gladiators, but it’s no worry, it’s to start now, my lord,” the lanista says with a slightly sinister smile. "You are in luck today. We've got the best man in the arena."
Jeongguk didn’t bother to respond, nor did he need to. As soon as his eyes were done passing over the entirety of the spectators, a horn resounded in the arena, signaling the start of the games. For a first-timer, his heart almost leaped out of his chest; he felt a bit like an easily pleased child. He watched elated as the gladiators appeared in a hoard, all armored with metal chest guards and helmets while their sandaled feet were bound with chains so that when one of them moved, the rest would, too. He had no understanding of how the gladiatorial games were, but he at least knew that such bodily restrictions on gladiators were not innate to the technicalities of the sport. He didn't dare question it though, rolling his shoulders back instead as he looked over at the gate of the opponents.
He was suddenly appalled and confused at the sight of two lions.
“Those are wild animals!” He gestured down to the beasts which were already prowling at the chained men.
“My lord, I’m afraid it’s your first time at the games,” the old man chuckled, easily conversing with Jeongguk while some of the gladiators had already begun dying, the sound of cheering loud all around. “The gladiators are here for the crowd’s entertainment. What a bore would it be if they just fought without a twist?”
“The only twist I’m seeing is that your men are losing.”
The old man laughed yet again.
“How many of them do you think will survive?”
Jeongguk raised an eyebrow at the lanista. He clearly didn’t value the lives of his men at all nor did he trust them to win.
Scoffing, he turned back to the gladiators and clicked his tongue when another one died. One of the lions was wounded, but such a shallow cut wouldn't be able to dissuade its advances, much less kill it. Only four men were standing now, a staggering decrease from ten. It also didn't help that they were all bound together, their feet clattering with every move. If one wanted to attack, all of them had to follow, but not all of the gladiators were strong. It was as if they were there just to fulfill a number. The slain were dead weight, and the four left alive struggled to cut off the dead men by their feet to be able to run and fight. Gruesome as it was, it was the only thing they could do to have a chance at winning against the agile lions.
“Three,” Jeongguk guessed, almost cheering when one managed to plunge his sword into the lion's mouth, cutting efficiently through its throat, but his cheer died down within the blink of an eye as that man died, too.
“Wrong,” the old man answered, and burst into laughter when another gladiator fell.
There were only two remaining, one of them somehow taking down the wounded lion with a spear right under the mane like he knew exactly where to attack. The crowd cheered, and Jeongguk edged forward.
“Observe, my lord.”
And so Jeongguk did as the gates to the grounds opened once again and in came ten men dressed differently than the last two standing gladiators. He gripped the balustrade tightly at the realization.
There was a second round of opponents, and the crowd erupted into louder cheers. He could only watch, stunned as another bloodbath happened right before him. He couldn’t look away, eyes insistently on swords piercing skin and cutting off heads, but most importantly, at the surprising grace of it all. There were only two gladiators left fighting amid the chaos, but it might as well just be one because the other appeared to serve the purpose of a decoy. At some point, with how fast things were going, Jeongguk didn’t even blink, determined to see who the other ruthless gladiator was. He knew he should have expected a spectacle to happen at such a game, but nothing could have braced him for what he was seeing. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, and it could only threaten to leap out of his throat when an opponent knocked off the gladiator’s helmet. It was then that Jeongguk realized he was the only one left.
Pandemonium.
“Who?” Jeongguk spoke, and he didn’t even need to say the whole question. The lanista knew the answer.
“Valentin, my lord.”
Valentin, Jeongguk thought to himself as he watched the gladiator in all his graceful yet brutal ministrations. He was wearing nothing but a chiton and sandals with nothing to protect him now that his armor and helmet had been knocked off. Chains dangled from the cuffs on his wrist, a sign that he was not just a gladiator but also a slave. Something twisted in Jeongguk’s gut, but before he could think further on it, the gladiator charged forward. A sword was his only weapon but it didn’t seem to deter him; he was able to use his body too, kicking and jabbing efficiently with precision. He was strong yet fluid and Jeongguk couldn’t take his eyes off of him.
Valentin.
Jeongguk thought of the name again and again as the gladiator skillfully plunged his sword in and out of bodies, agile under the sweltering heat of the sun. The number of opponents went down fast and with each one killed the arena seemed to shake with the yelling of spectators. He looked around briefly and saw how adamantly they punched their fists into the air out of excitement, the veins on their necks visible. Cheers of Valentin, Valentin! rippled through the crowd, and in that moment he had an inkling that all of these people came only for this one gladiator.
There were only two opponents left, one with a spear and the other with a bow and arrow. Jeongguk gulped when the spear flew into the air like it was slicing through the wind but Valentin was able to dodge it, the crowd roaring as he went behind a pile of dead bodies. Only then did he throw his sword as if to return his opponent’s gesture. It flew in the air within seconds, obstructed by nothing as it pierced the spearman’s side, right under his ribs. The crowd broke into even louder cheers, and it was within seconds that Valentin finished off the games, grabbing a sword from a dead gladiator and beheading the archer that wound up close behind him.
“Amazing,” Jeongguk whispered at the same time the horn was blown.
The lanista laughed gruffly beside him but his focus was elsewhere, his eyesight zoning in on nothing but the gladiator standing amongst the dead on the ground. When Valentin turned to the dais, saluting his lanista, Jeongguk saw his face for the first time and gasped. Despite being far away, Jeongguk could tell that he was a sight to behold. He was picturesque; blonde hair falling loosely from a braid, a profile that spoke of youth. He had a dignified posture like he knew he would be the victor at the end of it all. Letting his grip fall from the balustrade, Jeongguk watched the man walk into the now open gates, and was only then able to look back at the lanista beside him.
He didn’t care for what the old man had to say, but he did engage in small talk nonetheless. He began to ramble about how tough it was train hoards of men, and Jeongguk's mind only wandered to Valentin being the rising star of Rome that he'd once heard of in the capital market.
They stayed on the dais, chatting about things insignificant to Jeongguk until the old man mentioned something that piqued his interest further. His back straightened from where he sat on the chair.
“Training gladiators can be so dull and pointless sometimes… But that boy makes it worthwhile.” There was a lilt of pride in his tone.
Jeongguk eyed the old man.
“I’m guessing you’ve had him for a few years.”
“Yes, my lord. I bought him for a few coins when he was younger, much much younger.” Jeongguk didn’t know why but goosebumps rose on the back of his neck at the words. "A naive, little thing smuggled with men from the east."
Jeongguk's eyes widened in remembrance of his mother's homeland.
"Between you and me, Valentin's name is Jimin, or it was. He'd told me when I bought him, shining eyes and all. Disgusted me, really, the boring name. So I had it changed to Valentin. Fit for a minx."
Jimin.
Jeongguk managed to shield his emotions well, looking at the old man through his peripheral while his jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed. Realizing that Jimin was most likely from the same place his mother came from, he suddenly felt a need to tend to him. In all of Rome, Jeongguk didn't know anyone like him. It was part of why he felt estranged in his early youth alongside his peers. He was divergent regardless of his esteemed father or their riches.
If Jimin was just like him, it made all the difference. From what the old man had said so far, nothing had been easy for Jimin, as it was for his mother. The only difference was that she had been saved by Jeongguk's father falling in love at first sight while Jimin was unfortunately bought out cheap like spoiled goods. He wondered how much worse life must have been for him. It nauseated him even more to think that his mother could've had the same fate or even worse. His suspicion only proved to be true when the lanista spoke up again.
“I bought him for a different purpose then, but he proved to be so much more than just for pleasure!”
Jeongguk’s jaws locked, the veins down his neck straining with the action. The goosebumps spread upward, his head beginning to cloud with disgust and anger. He didn’t want to be right. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Oh, my lord, you don’t know how many times he’s won games and made me the happiest. He boosts not just my pride as his trainer but also as a man. His makes the victory even greater. You do understand what I mean, do you, my lord? Prostitutes are really of no use when I have a little minx like him by my side.”
Jeongguk didn’t speak at all. He was well aware that if he opened his mouth, this would end with his thirsting to kill the old man, his blood boiling with profound outrage.
Lazar appeared, bowing to the lanista before standing next to the young lord, not saying anything upon seeing the glint in his eyes. The middle-aged servant just stood listening to the old man and realized with wide eyes why his master had been deathly silent, seething in fury. The old lanista didn’t pick up on the merchant’s change of mood and kept talking about how Jimin had warmed his bed several times, even before he was of age.
Lazar leaned down, noticing how his lord was gripping the arm of the chair, and whispered into his ear that they had to go. The old man turned around to face Jeongguk, not having heard anything, and gestured to the curtains with a smile on his face.
“Valentin will be here any moment now, my lord. I’m sure you’d love to meet the star of the games!”
And sure enough, the gladiator appeared within the next few moments, pushing apart the lush red curtains to step onto the dais. Jeongguk’s eyes passed over the blonde’s body as he bowed, not lifting his head even after the seconds passed. He didn't want to think of it but bile rose inside him when he remembered the old man’s words.
“Lift your head,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin stood up straight.
Very quickly, the tension in the merchant's jaws disappeared, turning slack instead. He felt his eyebrows easing on his face, the goosebumps from his anger settling down.
The only thing that occupied his mind from that moment on was the face of the gladiator, sun-kissed but with a pinkish warmth high on his cheeks. His hair that was mousy blonde from what Jeongguk presumed would be years of fighting under the sun was a little long, braided on his back, his fringe matted onto his forehead due to sweat, but it didn’t take away from his beauty. Plush lips, a straight yet button nose, and eyes that were pellucid brown—somewhere between cold and warm, like he was assessing Jeongguk—matched the dainty shape of his face. The merchant had no doubt that this was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, might even put to shame the few female prostitutes that he'd bedded, but he wasn’t struck by his beauty for reasons that could be attributed to his loins.
Lazar whispered in his ear again. They had to go.
“Valentin,” Jeongguk spoke the gladiator’s name, echoing Jimin in his mind.
The young man looked at him. “Would you care to be owned by me?”
He hadn't thought it through. It was just a question that weighed over his head as soon as he saw the young man’s face and remembered in that split moment the rancid confession of his trainer. Jeongguk didn’t know why, but something in the gladiator’s eyes caught him, spoke to him. Of course, It was one thing to grant him gifts in appreciation of his skill and money to possibly buy himself out of slavery, but Jeongguk realized claiming ownership if only for formality would give Jimin better chances at freedom. He could let him leave as soon as they were out of the arena if he wanted. It would still be money well spent.
The lanista’s mouth hung open in shock at what Jeongguk had just asked. So did Lazar’s, who wanted to retaliate but his master only lifted a hand to silence him.
“What price do I have to pay?” Jeongguk asked the lanista and saw in his eyes the hesitation to lose his best fighter.
"My lord, I—"
"Name it."
The old man stammered. The point of training these men, enslaving them to throw them into fights wasn’t just for the sake of it or a twisted passion for barbarism. It was for money. This lanista, just like any other, also wanted to be rich and Jeongguk could give him money that was worth his years of training gladiators just by surrendering Jimin. All he had to do was say the price.
Raising an eyebrow, Jeongguk asked again, this time with a finality in his voice that was not to be questioned. The gladiator’s eyes seemed blank, and Jeongguk didn’t know why. Then they widened abruptly in the next moment when the lanista named his price. Jeongguk chose not to dwell on his reaction, diverting his attention back to the matter at hand.
“Very well, Arrange for the payment,” he said without further ado and glanced at Lazar before tilting his head toward Jimin. “He will be leaving with us without delay.”
And that was how Jeongguk got back in his carpentum, riding for hours into the sunset with the gladiator beside him never speaking a word, fists clenched atop his knees.
“Usher him to the baths,” Jeongguk said as soon as he stepped onto the veranda of his villa, passing by an ornate marble fountain, trudging his sandaled feet on the cobblestone path surrounded by lush flowers and greenery—the very image of luxury. Servants scurried to fix his robe and fan him, taking notice of the young man with their master as soon as he spoke his orders.
“Clear the room beside mine for him. It will be his quarters from now on.”
“But, my lord, that’s your office—“
“Why did you bring me here?” Pallas was interrupted by Jimin.
The servants, upon hearing him speak, jolted away, seeing his bloodied chiton and rugged appearance. Jeongguk disrupted the silence by chuckling, obviously unperturbed.
Jeongguk swiftly turned around, eyes slightly lowering to regard the young man. It was his first time hearing the blonde speak in all the hours he’d known him, and it shocked him to hear his voice. His accent sounded a lot like Jeongguk’s in his childhood when his mother was still alive, reminiscent of the East. Jimin’s, however, had a lisp that was subtle but noticeably there, and a softness that felt akin to blowing dandelions in the wind. It was just like his eyes, which at the moment were looking up at Jeongguk as if he didn’t understand him.
He opened his mouth to speak but pressed his lips back into a thin line. If he was being honest, he'd say it was because of the staggering contrast between their lives that punched him in the gut. They were connected by their similarity—the east. Although Jeongguk had never been to the east and therefore had no recollection of what it's like compared to Jimin, he felt close to him in that regard. Yet by some grand fate, they were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Here he was, the richest merchant in Rome, and in front of him stood Jimin, a newly-freed gladiator and slave.
Jeongguk was no saint, but sympathy turned his guilt into an urge to help and this was his answer.
Breathing deeply, he blinked and looked back down at Jimin.
“I don’t know what’s in that lovely mind of yours, but I didn’t take you home for the same reason that vile, old man bought you,” he said, but Jimin wasn’t assured by his answer, crowding his space in a second with a hand fisting his toga, staining it with blood. The aggressive response contrasted his face if his ruddy cheeks and forlorn eyes could attest.
“What is your motive?” He sounded almost desperate.
Jeongguk smiled, gently pushing away his hand before glancing at Pallas. He nodded, immediately understanding and leaving with the other servants to give Jeongguk privacy.
“You're free to leave," Jeongguk sighed as soon as they were alone.
"What?" Jimin gasped albeit a little quietly.
"I'm not holding you down," Jeongguk answered, their gazes locked. Still, Jimin seemed confused. "I didn't pay to get you out of that arena to make you a servant of mine. You can stay if you'd like, but you're a free man now. You can leave."
Jimin opened his mouth, ready to ask again, but Jeongguk spoke before he could.
"Ultimately, the point of this all was to free you."
Jeongguk saw the obvious shock in Jimin's eyes.
"You've paid more money for me than I'd ever seen in my life—"
"Then, do you want to stay?"
"I— I just..." Jimin struggled as if Jeongguk's genuine eyes and words had stripped him of all the wariness and distrust he had left.
"Valentin."
"Yes, my lord," Jimin replied quickly as if there was an urgency and surprise to his voice.
Then just as he'd seemed to get over the shock of being addressed, Jeongguk stepped forward and took his hand in his. When they parted, a key was in the palm of Jimin's hand. It was bronze with ornate detailing on the bow, glinting under the moonlight.
"That's the key to the room next to mine. It's yours if you're staying. If you're leaving, you can ask Pallas to get you a horse from the stables. I'd say it would be a good three hours to get back to the capital if you ride fast. Now would be your time to leave," Jeongguk paused, and then: "but if you're to stay, you have my word that you are welcome here."
"My lord," said a different voice this time, and Jeongguk sighed. Looking behind him, he saw Pallas standing a little far off. "The room has been cleared."
At that, Jeongguk gave Jimin another look, a smile gentle on his face.